- concerning the difficulties in striking up a casual conversation. [with Merevaika]

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

Haya grunted, sunk deeper into her pillows. She had chosen to occupy an extra cozy corner of the lounge, besides one of the windows looking out over Riverfall and its broad, glinstening waters, but now that she was here she found herself restless. She has been sipping her wine too fast for it to last and in all honesty, she didn't know why she still came here. True, it was like a much needed breath of fresh air to be away from all the men for even just a moment -and the first time Haya stumbled upon this space she had sworn she could almost cry- but her actual motivations behind her regular visits to this place weren't that innocent.Truth be told, she wanted to meet a woman who might see more in her than simply a friend. How one were to go about that though, she had no idea, especially here in Riverfall. Wind Reach had been easier, freer, no one had really cared to bother with whom she did or didn't lay with. Tossing about on a bunk with a friend wasn't really frown upon. But Riverfall only spoke of its sevetal in hushed whispers. It made her regard her feelings as taboo.

During her earlier visits, Haya had been able to amuse herself with her puppy crush on Lika. The bouncer's broad physique had intimidated and attracted her in equal measure. Never before had she thought muscle to look that attractive on a person. It had been fun to steal furtitive glances, even though the Akontak remained ever stoic, and Haya had enjoyed her own silly giddiness if their fingers happened to brush accidentally while handing over her cloak. At this point though, the whole thing had become a little frustrating.It wasn't Lika per se, it was just that Haya wanted to feel free to make contact with anyone she might possibly fancy. Yet she was afraid. The last thing she wanted to be was yet another bother to the women in this sanctuary. She didn't want to become like the Akalak, constantly striking up 'casual' conversations in the hopes of becoming 'friends'. Their behaviour had grown tiresome and transparent, and it had made Haya cynical about relationships alltogether, always suspecting an ulterior motive. Ironically, she would have an ulterior motive of her own were she to approach anyone here. Which meant that ultimately, were she to act upon her wishes, it would make her the same as those sky-skinned, hungry wolves outside. The thought alone was enough to put her off.

So Haya did nothing. Just sat, waited, observed. Dreamt longingly of a way out of this trap.

The woman struggled through the streets, moving roughly from side to side as she kept upright. She didn't know where she was going. There were so many places, but so few to take her, hide her from the outside world and to take her memories from her. Take them and keep them, she wished, but she knew that would never happen. Riverfall only gave her memories - Alcor, Venthris - and the woman collapsed with the thought of Striders and running and riding.

Rolling to the side of the street, she clutched her knees, letting the Akalaks look her with disdain and some interest at a possible partner to bear their children. It was all they thought about - their Nakivaks - just like all Endrykas thought about was their Striders.

When they lost them, they would understand what fools they had been. Like she had learned.

Memories. Be gone. The mantra came quick and steady, having swirled through her head for the whole season, begging to be free. Rising steadily, she sharpened her breathing, focused inwards. Distract her mind from this. From it all. She focused deeper, searching for the core - what made her her, what laid her path and what let her see others. There. Writhing, like a heart, and she snatched at it, squeezed it in her hands until she had it.

She focused inwards further, driving it up. That was what she was doing. Not thinking. Not remembering.

Forcing herself to push all the magic inside her to her eyes, she felt the sting, the tears, the redness, and the redness in the starbursts that glinted, finding what she was looking for. Paths. Paths as far as the eye could see. Colours - reds and greens and whites and blues - that were dim, bright, patchy, strong. She was lost in them, letting the trails settle in front of her eyes, until one shone the brightest, and it was the one she picked.

"Take me somewhere safe," she muttered in Pavi, speaking to the glowing blue as if it were something that could reply. Then she snatched out, looking like a crazy person to those around her, and pulled her fingers through it, in it, around it. Pulled herself along the path, everything in her focused on this one path and on keeping it. Nothing else. No memories.

Then she found a door, and her hand pressed against it, her magic dropping without her even realising it. It slipped through her fingers and she gave a disgruntled moan, pawing at the door to try get it back. Without the path to follow she was lost. She was always lost.

Then the door moved forward, and she fell inside. Her heart thundered in her head. Her eyes searched for the paths, and found only women, all sorts of women, gathered here and there, alone and together. A bar. The woman stumbled towards it, muscles and scars shining through her clothes. The windmarks, covered in their red, raw scratches, down one arm. Slumped against the bar. Head in her hands, messy mane of brown cascading down her shoulders, shielding her green and red gaze from everyone else.

Her mind forgot to work. Her mouth too. She didn't ask for a drink, despite needing one. She simply sat there, forcing herself to not remember. And slowly, she almost didn't.

Having little better to do, Haya followed the newly entered figure through the bar with curious eyes. Riverfall was a big place, but women tended to stand out. After having lived here for a few seasons you'd start to recognise faces, even of those you just pass in the streets and haven't ever spoken to. This particular girl seemed unfamiliar, and it peeked Haya's interest.

Haya threw the remainder of her wine back and rose from her seat with the help of her cane, stretching her shoulders until a few vertebrae popped with released tension. Then she made her way through the lounge at a patient pace, her cane tapping hollowly on the floor with each step she took. She seated herself at the bar right next to the girl who just entered before, and leaned her head on her palm, smiling as she waved her hand shortly to get Carla's attention. She engaged in some light chit chat with the woman while she ordered bread and cheese and payed for it.

Rhavok had started giving her a small allowance to entertain herself with, after the twins' birth and her decision to stay and nurse them. She was sure he was trying to make remaining in his house and granting him more children as appealing as possible to her, now that she had earned the freedom to leave if she desired to. And it was, it was a convenient life after all. Safe and steady, with more luxury and possibilities than Wind Reach had ever granted her. But she found it hardly fulfilling. Perhaps she was being ungrateful. Or perhaps the relatively wealthy standart of living in this city had already gotten to her, allowing her the time and energy to dare dream of more than just surviving this season and the next.

She remembed her first time out in the city on her own. It had been a little bit bewildering without Rhavok at her side. She'd been confined to his house for a season before he trusted she would not run, confident she had accepted her situation. But he had chaperoned her on his days off, eager to show her Riverfall's beauty; to impress her with its riches. Still, Haya had felt overwhelmed many a time she'd stepped out the door. Riverfall had just been so different than Wind Reach; its climate, its people, their conventions and expectation, its language. She has had a hard time finding her footing and expressing herself.

The first time she had entered the Sapphire Star she must have appeared as much lost as the girl next to her is looking now. She'd been hungry for people to share her stories with, to connect with, for faces less stoic than the Akalak's. She had been clean though, bathed and examined and put on a healthy diet to sustain strong future offspring. This young woman looked stressed and haggard.

Haya received her order and gave Claire her thanks. She shoved the plate of food towards the girl next to her, leaving it in between them, the edge of the plate lightly touching the woman's arm. She tried to make eye contact.

“Eat.” Haya spoke in common, her voice softening the tone of the command. Not waiting for an immediate response she continued airily, casually turning her gaze back ahead. “You look terrible.”

She didn't even notice the woman until she spoke to her. Until she was told to eat, and a plate was pressed against her arm, bread and cheese waiting on it. Merevaika looked up from her thoughts - her lack of thoughts - towards the woman, trying to remember if she remembered her. Why else would she be giving her food, looking after her? Merevaika had forgotten about kindness. Even about ulterior motives. Instead, she searched the woman's face for anything familiar.

Curly, copper hair and freckly. She didn't know her. Surely not. Her eyes flew down to the plate, looking at the food. No matter how terrible she looked, she wasn't hungry. Sinking around the plate, she stared at the food, trying to pick up an appetite. But it just wasn't there, and wasn't going to come. She was empty. Empty as... what was empty? Nothingness. That was what she wanted.

But the woman was still there, and still staring at her, and it bothered her. How was she meant to remain in nothingness when there was another presence in her mind, even if it was one that meant nothing to her.

As if she was snapping, she turned round, caught her eye and held it tight. Waiting there for a moment in a hope just the gaze would scare her off, she finally spoke, pushing the plate away from her and into the other woman sharply.

"What?" she cried, a little louder than the rest of the room had expected, causing a few eyes to turn to her, "What do you want? I want to sit here - alone - so please. Let me. Leave me alone." Her words all came out in Pavi, speaking naturally and forgetting this wasn't Endrykas. She'd be lucky if the woman even recognised her language, and the hand signs she made furiously with it. Understanding was out of the question. But Merevaika was nothingness. She didn't realise. Instead, her eyes blazed red both in the iris and the white, and body tensed sharply. She wasn't comfortable. She never would be, either.

But she wanted to be uncomfortable and alone. Slumping her head against the side again, she almost cried. But she didn't, staring into the nothingness of the bar top and waiting for something to happen.

She had overstepped. Haya could not understand a word the other woman had said but her tone had been clear, accented by strong gestures. Haya showed her palms in sign of defeat, her brows raised at the strength in the woman's response. Perhaps she had indeed been presumptuous. Perhaps her gesture of kindness came too close to a gesture of pity. No one enjoyed being pitied or patronized.Or perhaps the woman didn't understand common at all and had simply cursed Haya for shoving her plate into her arm; a simple case of miscommunication. Less likely though, considering the strength of her response and her current listeless posture. Yet Haya wasn't about to push her luck and try again. She exchanged a look with Carla, whom had been alarmed by the commotion, and shrugged, straightening back into her seat.

Well then. Haya broke off small pieces of cheese and bread for herself, combining them in her mouth and chewing them contemplativly. Alone with her thoughts again. Honestly she was curious. The gaze of the woman next to her had been blazing, its colour intense and unusual for Haya. But she did not want to make the other uncomfortable by sneeking glances, wanting to allow her the privacy she obviously insisted on.

Instead, she studied Carla as the woman moved through the room, serving, chatting, moving through her establishment with calm grace. Haya had been contemplating applying for a job here, but she doesn't know if she would be usefull to the owner. With only one hand free due to her cane, she'd be carrying only half of what another could while serving, and she would be slow at it, too. And then again, working here or any place similar wouldn't save her from the moral duty of bearing this city its children, a reality she really wished she could escape. A waitressing job was far from an optimal solution but nothing better had crossed Haya's mind as of yet, so she kept returning to this plan, trying to build it into something that might work more to her advantage.

She couldn't help herself eventually, turned her head and sent another glance to the figure still seated next to her. She caught herself in the act, firmly directed her gaze back ahead. If she had nothing better to do then letting her gaze wander, she'd better just finish up her food and return home. No use in making others uncomfortable.

She was still there. Even from the way she lay against the table, staring into nothingness, trying to clear her mind from the pain that was inside, she couldn't let go of the eyes that kept watching her. They weren't on her constantly - no, the woman respected her privacy, gave her space, knew that she didn't want to be watched. But just like anyone, she couldn't keep them from flickering to the girl on the counter occasionally.

And as they did, Merevaika began to think, think like she had done once. About survival and food and getting things - not about nothingness and the stuff that lay beyond the void of her mind. She had been foolish, she realised. Not taking the food - it had been free, and offered to her. Not illegally, either. Out of generosity - and just because she wasn't hungry now didn't mean she wasn't going to be at some point. She was losing her mind, refusing things - but then again, hadn't she already lost it? She had lost a whole part of herself, her mind being part of that.

Still, she sneaked a glance at the other woman, the one who watched her, falling on the half-empty plate. It was too late. She was stupid. She had always been stupid, but even more so now. Eryunt wouldn't want her to die, but to thrive without him. Just because she felt like dying didn't mean she had to.

She flipped her head over, letting it rest on the other side of her face as her eyes fell on the other woman. She didn't say anything - not quite yet, anyway. Instead, she took deep breaths, stopped herself trembling and let herself take a good look at the woman. Her eyes searched her, the red and green flickering left to right in a blur as she tried to understand who she was. Where she was from. Whether she would understand Merevaika's loss.

Because as much as she wouldn't admit it, she did want to talk. She did want company, at the very least to distract her. And her eyes said it. Everything about her said it. There were cracks in the wall put up around her, and they were begging to be broken.

Haya felt the girl's gaze before she met it; examining, taking her in carefully. She let her. Kept to herself for a little while longer to give the other the opportunity to study her well before turning her head and meeting that look just as brazenly. Haya took in the other's posture, which was slightly more turned in her direction now, slightly more open. The girl was pretty, alright, possessing dark hair framing bright eyes and healthy, clear skin. She would be a joy to look at if it weren't for the tension in her brow, or the thinly veiled distress in her gaze. There was something urgent there.

Perhaps she'd had the misfortune to have met a moody Akalak. One who had not had much patience for courtship. For all that this city's skyshaded people might appear stoic and calm, Haya had witnessed a few outbursts of possesive rage and violence, both from the father of her children and others more unknown. It had been a strange thing at first, for Rhavok's mood to shift so suddenly, to see him so conflicted with himself and his anger. But after having spend many moons in Riverfall Haya had begun to suspect this was as much part of the Akalak's nature as the inability to keep her mouth shut at the proper time was part of hers. There had been whispers too, of Akalak deemed too unruly, of those stationed outside the city gates, their faces tattooed as a warning. She was sternly told to stay clear of them. Perhaps this girl should have been warned too. Haya could only hope she was making things up, her mind interpreting the other's expression too heavily and her imagination running off with possible explainations.

Haya did not talk this time, as she shoved her place a few inches forward once more. She just held the other's gaze and moved calmly, testing. But the invitation was there all the same.

There was invitation, in the woman's eyes. Some sort of thought, too. A musing of sorts, probably trying to figure Merevaika out in all the mysteries that lay before her. She knew she was a strange sight, and an interesting one. Despair, pain, suffering: she was the perfect place to read these emotions, the textbook example of someone who was struggling through them all. And clearly, this woman wanted to know more.

It hurt Merevaika that she couldn't tell her. Because in reality, she struggled to speak. Struggled to put everything she felt into words. It all translated so much better through her body, her posture, that look in her eyes.

The plate was pushed back towards her. This time, Merevaika didn't shove it back, but let it sit there for a moment, watching the testing look in her eyes. Then, with speed but not savage hunger like she might have before, she snatched up the bread, and began to tear pieces off. Soft in her fingers, she held it there, wondering if there was a way to keep it forever, to make it fill her stomach forever.

Then she placed in on her tongue, letting it soften in her mouth until the sweetness broke through, forcing her to swallow it roughly. She picked out another piece of the bread - this time from the very centre, avoiding the harder crust - and ate again, this time chewing through it.

Halfway through the bread, she finally looked back up, ready to say something.

"Thank you." This time, this woman could understand it. Even if Merevaika barely could.